


Camp Pence

by hahafuck



Category: And more! - Fandom, Emperor's New Groove (2000), Phineas and Ferb, Political RPF - US 21st c., The Road to El Dorado (2000)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Camp Pence AU, Coronavirus, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Enemies to Lovers, Human Perry the Platypus (Phineas and Ferb), Multi, born at 3am one night in march, gay. trans. platypus, happy pride month !!, if they're here they're queer, if yall yeets are reading this its all your fault you know that, just in case you were wondering there is no bestiality involved, justin bieber sings yummy !, oh yeah and theres, ram ranch, this hurt me as much as it will hurt you, this wasn't my idea but i wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hahafuck/pseuds/hahafuck
Summary: When Kuzco is sent off to Camp Pence, he resigns himself to suffering for the next month.He's not expecting Kronk.Or ghosts. Or freaky cowboy roleplay. Or the godawful food.The Emperor's New Vibe.
Relationships: Adam/Seth (On the Bridge), Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus, Kronk/Kuzco, Miguel/Tulio (Road to El Dorado), Mike Pence/Ben Shapiro
Comments: 19
Kudos: 28





	1. the emperor arrives

**Author's Note:**

> see end notes for a full list of references if ya really want the full experience

Kuzco took a nice, deep breath.

Then another.

C'mon, he was rich! He could afford it.

If only being the 1% could save him now.

Everything went downhill on one unfortunate evening--it might have been an early morning, who knew?--when Kuzco had the displeasure of stumbling upon his mother (?) Yzma at a drag show. Of course, he was the main event, which on any day ending in  _ y _ would have been a good thing, had the audience not included his number one anti-fan. Sure, he "loved" his mother (?) with the depths of his empty, capitalist heart. But as far as supporting his endeavors, especially those she considered rather  _ deviant _ , Yzma still had a ways to go.

(It probably didn't help that after 18 long years of existence, he still wasn't sure how Yzma was related to him or what happened to the rest of his apparently rich family, but who cared? Kuzco didn't have time for deep, ponderous questions and suspicion. It was a lot easier to pretend problems didn't exist than to deal with them.)

Anyway. Yzma discovering his secret life kickstarted a miserable chain of events, most notably the intense regret of his generous donation to a certain presidential campaign a few years prior, and at the end of it all he found himself here. Camp Pence.

Kuzco wasn't a big fan of religion, mostly due to the fact that he rejected the idea of anyone getting more attention than him, but when he set his mind to it, he could rationalize it. After all, God was just like a bigger, all-powerful Kuzco, right? And who wouldn't want to love a Kuzco?

Despite his begrudging appreciation for religion, Kuzco failed to see the bright side of Camp Pence. As soon as he stepped out of his limo onto the camp grounds, he had been immediately provided with a cross, a Holy Bible, and an ugly t-shirt he would never have lowered himself to wear had Yzma not threatened him with canceling his credit card.

There was a lot of power in money, after all.

Yzma stayed long enough to tell him to "do what you're told or  _ so help me I'll-- _ " but as soon as her lecturing services were no longer required, she folded herself back into the limo, bones jutting out at impossible angles, and shouted at the chauffeur to step on it.

Kuzco was left feeling an empty sort of dejection, but as soon as a hint of  _ real emotion  _ crept into his empty void of being, he shook himself out of it and plastered on that Kuzco Smile™. He wasn't exactly sure what to expect out of this Camp Pence thing, but the giant scoreboard, currently reading 382, also had a very informative slogan: "Number of Gays Who Have Returned to the Lord."

If Kuzco had to guess, this was probably a gay conversion camp.

One could only hope it lived up to the TikTok infamy.

An incredibly unhappy-looking camp counselor ushered him and his fellow new arrivals towards a board. Stapled to the board were papers that neatly laid out each camper's cabin and number.

Kuzco did his best to lean over the swarm of gays and managed to catch a glimpse of his own name. 

**_Orange Cabin_ **

_ Orange-1: Kronker Pepikrankenitz _

_ Orange-2: Kuzco Kuzconian _

_ Orange-3: Harry Styles _

_ Orange-4: Miguel Lord _

He wasn't sure what irked him more--the fact that his color was  _ orange _ , or the fact that he was  _ Orange-2 _ to some guy named  _ Kronker Pepikrankenitz _ 's  _ Orange-1. _

Kuzco was not a fan of people being above him.

He let out a long-suffering sigh and began the trek to the Orange Cabin. Kuzco generally despised authority, but it wasn't like he had anything better to do. Besides, it was only for the summer. The company would need him back soon--he couldn't even imagine  _ Yzma _ running the world. Crazy!

He laughed a little to himself. Man, it would be crazy if he was really here just to get out of her way so she could take over the company. That was just ridiculous!

The other campers were beginning to give him odd looks, and seeing as Kuzco had yet to take over Camp Pence, he allowed himself one last giggle before allowing his amusement to settle into a coy smile. Not only did it give off the impression of cool, controlled sanity, as one would want in any ruler, but he knew from experience that the people  _ loved  _ his smile. Especially his coy ones. Playing a little hard-to-get really did wonders.

When Kuzco arrived at the pathetically tiny Orange Cabin, he marched right in there like he owned the place. He probably did. It really had been a  _ generous _ donation.

Fortunately, the rest of Orange Cabin had already arrived, each sitting on their bunks like they were waiting for him. If Kuzco was being honest with himself, which was something he did incredibly rarely, they probably had to wait for him, but it was more fun to delude himself into thinking he was superior.

“Don’t worry, Orange Cabin! Your leader has arrived!” Kuzco declared as he swept into the cabin. His cabinmates stared at him, each with a different emotion. A big guy sitting on one of the top bunks had a strangely confused, slightly adoring look, which was a good start. The other guy on a top bunk, your run-of-the-mill brown-haired boy, looked kind of out of it but cheerful enough, and the guy on the bottom bunk, Hispanic, long blond hair, looked incredibly sad for reasons Kuzco had no desire to learn about.

None of his cabinmates seemed interested in replying to him, so he made his way to the empty bed--a  _ bottom  _ bunk, which irked Kuzco both because he was worried the big guy on the top bunk would break it and because he was not a fan of admitting defeat. But Kuzco needed to make this work, so he would accept it for now. Hopefully, he would be able to kick the big guy off the top bunk later. It probably wouldn’t be difficult, considering the look he had given Kuzco.

“So…” Kuzco began. “What’s up, I’m Kuzco, and I’m super rich.”

That made the blond guy and basic brown-haired guy look up.

“I’m Miguel,” said the sad blond guy. “I’m super poor.”

Before Kuzco was forced to reply to that pathetic statement, basic guy spoke up.

“‘Ello, oi’m ‘Arry.”

Gross. A Brit.

“‘Arry Stoyles, that is.”

That reminded Kuzco of something. Wasn’t he in that band, Two Directions? Or… yeah, it was definitely something like that.

“Aren't you famous or something?” Kuzco asked. It would be nice to have someone that understood his life’s problems, but at the same time, he really didn’t want competition for his role as emperor of this camp.

“Oi mate, ye don't really fink bein’ rich solves ya problems, do ye?” Harry replied vaguely. Which, if Kuzco thought about it, was a valid point, considering he was sitting on the bottom bunk in a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere because his mother (?) found out he was a drag queen. If Kuzco had the choice, he wouldn’t be here.

“True, true,” Kuzco said, although it was less like a “said” and more like a “mused”. He almost immediately slipped out of that personality and back into his energetic god complex. “How ‘bout you, big guy?”

“Ah, the name’s Kronk,” the big guy admitted. Due to the awful bunkbeds, Kuzco couldn’t see his face or body language, which was unfortunate, because Kuzco didn’t like to leave things mysteries. Luckily, there would most likely be other opportunities to figure Kronk out. “I’m not sure why I’m here, to be honest.”

“Can’t relate,” Kuzco responded breezily. He knew exactly why he was there, and if it was what it took to get Yzma to unfreeze his accounts, then he would deal with it. He doubted the “conversion” part of the conversion camp would work, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t ever die, if things went according to plan, so there was no bonus to converting. He wouldn’t need to drop his gay before the metal detector.

Plus, being a drag queen meant people paid attention to him, and that was never a bad thing (unless it made the right wing hate him. But Kuzco was smart and he kept his professional and personal lives separate).

“Yeh, #meightoow,” Harry interjected, throwing Kuzco out of his thoughts.

“Same,” Miguel said dejectedly. “A wicked pastor found out about me and my boyfriend because I found out about my boyfriend’s girlfriend, and now my life’s a disaster.”

Miguel’s life sounded like fifty shades of complicated, and Kuzco really didn’t want to hear any more about it than he had to.

Kronk seemed not to share his opinion, because he spoke up in that deep, confused voice. “You have a boyfriend? And he has a girlfriend?”

“That he does,” Miguel replied. He flopped down on his bed, his eyes closed. “Their names are Tulio and Chel. _ She _ got out of it by being straight.”

Well. That kind of was the point of a  _ gay conversion camp _ , wasn’t it?

“Sounds rough, bruv,” Harry said sympathetically. “Me secret boyfriend is ‘round ‘ere somewhere, aye fink.”

Kuzco had no secret lovers, and he felt he rather paled in comparison to these sob stories. Not one to be outdone, he interrupted with, “I’m a drag queen.”

He couldn’t see Miguel’s face, but he had a feeling an eyebrow was raised. “Cool, cool.”

“It is,” Kuzco said. That sounded a little sad and desperate, so he spiced it up with, “really, you should try it sometime. Pretty neat.” Actually, they shouldn’t try it, because that would eliminate his specialness, and Kuzco loved feeling special, so he wrapped up his disaster of a backstory with, “Unless your mom has the power to freeze your assets and take over your giant corporation.”

No one seemed to know what to say to that, so they said nothing. Kuzco tried to muster up some guilt for talking about Yzma like that, but once he’d said it, he had a sickening feeling in his stomach that it was true, and maybe he was here so she could steal his power. He tried to push the thought out of his mind, but it wouldn’t go away, so he tried to focus on unpacking the few personal effects he had been able to fit into the single suitcase Yzma had granted him.

Kuzco had been given that cross, Bible, and t-shirt earlier, but of course he had taken some essentials from home with him. He had brought the generic stuff--toothpaste, high quality soaps and makeup products, and some clothes, as he doubted Camp Pence attracted many graphic designers (a belief which was unfortunately proven correct once he had seen the horrifically ugly camp shirt he had been given). Kuzco wished he had brought some kind of servant, but Yzma had vetoed that idea. Even better, he should’ve just had a nicer living situation built. He had planned on making his new summer home somewhere nice, like on top of a poor village in Greece, but somewhere in the American Midwest wouldn’t be bad, as long as he got to watch Camp Pence and this awful cabin demolished.

Kuzco was rattled from his thoughts once again by a new person entering the cabin. Silently, Kuzco was filled with dread at the idea that they would somehow have to fit even more people into the already ridiculously small space, but he let out a sigh of relief upon seeing it was one of the miserable-looking camp counselors. He was tall, with black hair and the widest shoulders Kuzco had ever seen. He abandoned his half-hearted attempt at unpacking to stare intimidatingly at the counselor, who met his gaze with a tired stare.

“It’s time for lunch and orientation,” the counselor said stiffly.

“Sexual orientation?” Kuzco asked sarcastically, unable to resist the opportunity. He heard Miguel and Harry’s quiet snickers, although Kronk’s confusion was almost tangible. Did Kronk genuinely have no idea why he was at Camp Pence? Kronk’s confusion created Kuzco’s confusion, and he pushed away the feeling with a sense of unease. He didn’t like that Kronk seemed to have some weird power to made Kuzco confused. Kuzco was never  _ confused. _

The camp counselor didn’t seem to know what to say, so he just sighed. “Put your camp shirts on and meet at the cafeteria.” He walked away immediately after, as if he couldn’t stay in the cabin another minute, which was an understandable sentiment. If Kuzco wasn’t being blackmailed by Yzma into staying, he would have walked out as soon as he walked in.

When the counselor’s words finally made it through the overwhelming confusion Kronk had created in Kuzco’s mind, he stood up and took his shirt off. He knew it looked good and effortless--he had practiced in front of the mirror every day when he was twelve and wanted to impress the hot babes. He swiftly put the ugly camp shirt on, although he wrinkled his nose in distaste. The thick, rough cotton was uncomfortable against his skin. He would have to find a way to fix that. There was no way he was living in this shirt for the next month.

Unconsciously, Kuzco looked up at Kronk, who was staring at him, his face slightly red. His red face made Kuzco’s face red.

It suddenly hit Kuzco that  _ Kronk _ was short for  _ Kronker Pepikrankenitz _ , making him the Orange 1 to Kuzco’s Orange 2.

Kuzco was tempted to curse, but he wasn’t sure Kronk could handle that.

Since when were his speech patterns determined by what Kronk could handle?

The song Vibe by Cookiee Kawaii filled his head, and though Kuzco would rather not think about that, it was better than his head being filled with thoughts about  _ Kronk. _

“Well?” Kuzco said, forcing his voice to be bright and energetic. “What are you waiting for?”

His cabinmates followed his lead, awkwardly taking their own shirts off and replacing them with the camp shirt. Kuzco did his best not to stare at Kronk’s absolutely  _ giant _ arms and chest, but it was hard. No, the  _ action, _ not his--

Kuzco wanted to kill himself.

Apparently Kuzco was also a narcissistic bastard, because Harry’s gaze immediately met his, eyebrows high and eyes wide. Kuzco took that to mean he had spoken his last thought aloud.

“Don’ do  _ tha’, _ mate! You’re beau-iful!” Harry said, his voice a mix of alarm and general confusion. Did Kronk really spread his confusion all over Harry, too? How was Kuzco supposed to get anything done if his future subordinates were too confused to stutter out a sentence?

Kuzco silently mourned all of the hours of free-time he’d have to spend on getting these people slightly less confused. “Of course I am, I didn’t spend hours playing What Makes You Beautiful on Just Dance in private gym class for nothing!”

Harry made a face at that, and Kuzco had a feeling he was missing something. He pushed back the overwhelming feeling of  _ confusion _ that threatened to cloud his judgement. Stupid Kronk.

Finally, everyone had the right clothes on, and Kuzco led the march out the door and down to the cafeteria. Generally, he didn’t like being told what to do, and had he been in any other situation, he would’ve stayed put and refused to go anywhere, but he didn’t want to be stuck in that cabin any longer than he had to, and it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

As they walked, lines of other campers began joining them. Out of the corner of his eye, Kuzco spotted Miguel’s face light up as he waved at someone, and Harry was singing some annoyingly catchy song, but Kronk’s face remained blank. Kuzco couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t all that confused, but was, in fact, secretly a genius. Kronk was already Orange 1, he might be Camp Pence 1 soon too if Kuzco wasn’t careful. He frowned at the idea, but before he could expend any more energy on thoughts he didn’t have the emotional capacity to entertain, they arrived at the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was already filled with campers, and more were filing in. Kuzco had never been to a pride parade--he wasn’t a fan of being yelled at by angry far-right conservative Evangelical Christians--but he imagined it was something like this. Kuzco’s gaydar was pretty on point, in his unbiased opinion, and it was going wild at the sight of all these heathens.

Kuzco was ushered onto a cafeteria table bench, squished between Kronk and a guy with an awful bowl-cut dressed in an orange track suit, who had unfashionably layered the camp shirt over it. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and so Kuzco was forced to sit uncomfortably close to Kronk to avoid touching the track suit.

As the last of the campers made their way into the cafeteria, a man’s voice boomed from some speakers.

“Hello--hello? Is this thing on?” A sharp, piercing sound filled the cafeteria, and everyone winced. “Yes. Okay. Welcome to Camp Pence, I’m Ben Shapiro, assistant director here at Camp Pence, I--I’m sure you’ll be hearing more from me in the future, but for now, here’s camp director and vice president of our country, Mike Pence.”

Ah yes, Ben Shapiro.  _ America’s greatest debater, change my mind. _ Kuzco looked around for a second before spotting him and Pence on some sort of stage at one end of the cafeteria. The man handed it to Pence, who took it with a grin.

It was a highly unnerving grin.

“Welcome to Camp Pence! You may have arrived here under unfortunate circumstances, but trust me, at the end of the summer, all of you sinners will have returned to  _ God _ . Should any campers die, they will have the… misfortune of going to Hell. But remember, you're here to have fun!”

Kuzco did not plan on having the  _ misfortune _ of going to Hell.

If he went, it would be a party.

Why else would he deign to leave this earth?

That seemed to be the end of the speech, because Pence and Shapiro walked off the stage, radiating some sort of emotion Kuzco couldn't place. Pride, maybe? He felt pride often enough--what didn't he have to be proud about? But it seemed a little off in the pair.

Kuzco almost immediately lost his train of thought when the crowd began to stand and move. He was a little confused until he heard someone scream  _ “Lunch!” _

Still doing his best to avoid touching tracksuit guy, Kuzco leaned as far back as he could while walking. He accidentally brushed against Kronk and flinched away. He hoped Kronk hadn’t noticed. With his obliviousness, he probably hadn’t.That was an advantage Kuzco could use.

The options at the Camp Pence cafe were incredibly limited, to Kuzco’s immense disappointment. If he returned home to find a massive dent in his bank account, he would sue. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich he ate for lunch was barely worth a dollar. His generous donation clearly did not go to the food.

After lunch, the campers were herded outside into their cabin groups and directed to perform teambuilding exercises, although they were  _ not _ permitted to touch each other, which made sense, although they were already living together in close quarters, so Kuzco wasn’t sure how effective such a rule would be.

The rule was helpful in keeping him far away from Kronk. Throwing a rubber ball at him was much easier than talking to him. Kuzco wasn’t sure why he cared so much about Kronk. The guy was stupid and oblivious, and when Kuzco eventually took his rightful place as leader of the Orange Cabin, Kronk wouldn’t bother arguing.

While he was distracted, Miguel threw the ball at Kuzco’s face. Kuzco checked to make sure his face was alright, then chucked it at Kronk. Kronk caught it, of course. He was all brawn, no brains.

Their team bonding time lasted far longer than Kuzco preferred. Why were they even bonding? Wasn’t the point to stop them from bonding? Alas, Kuzco was not Mr. Pence, and he was forced to spend time with the peasants –at least, he was fairly sure most of them were peasants, although Harry had said he was rich–for far longer than he would’ve preferred. Granted, if he’d listened to them during the scavenger hunt, they  _ might have _ been back earlier, but Kuzco doubted any of them were better at navigating unfamiliar woods than him. He hadn’t ever done it before, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a natural.

Ha. Nature.

They returned to the Orange Cabin an hour before dinner, which gave them hardly enough time for Kuzco to spruce up and do his best to make the camp shirt fashionable before being rushed out the door. The others made no attempt to clean off the dirt and grime of the woods, which Kuzco found mildly disgusting, but who was he to judge?

He was Kuzco. He could judge.

Dinner was much more organized than lunch, although their menu remained pitifully unvaried. He had chicken strips and saltine crackers. Kuzco did not want to think about the number of carbs he would be forced to consume by this place.

Rather than rambling about himself in between bites, Kuzco had the opportunity to meet some campers from another cabin–their partner cabin, apparently. Blue Cabin. He thanked whatever god was listening that they were complementary colors.

“So how’d you end up here?” he asked the guy seated next to him, voice slightly muffled by his chewing. The guy was pretty normal-looking. His name was just plain ol’ Jimmy. He wasn’t Kronk or wearing a weird orange jumpsuit, which automatically gave him clout in Kuzco’s book.

“Oh, you know,” Jimmy shrugged. “I told a few too many gay jokes and my folks sent me here. Guess they just couldn’t handle the Neutron Style.” He fired finger guns at Kuzco, who stared at him for a second before nodding.

Maybe Kuzco couldn’t handle the Neutron Style either.

The Blue Cabin consisted of four campers, just like the Orange Cabin –Jimmy (surname Neutron), a quiet, shady guy named Perry, some skinny twink named Peter that insisted he had a girlfriend, and a big guy that dyed his hair  _ white _ , for some unknown, godforsaken reason, named Norm. Kuzco wasn’t sure what to think of the Blue Cabin. He had a feeling Norm and Kronk would get along–they were both absolute idiots.

After dinner, they returned to their cabins and were told by their cabin counselor–whose name was Seishiro, apparently–that lights-out was 10 PM, which was two hours away. Kuzco was grateful (which was an emotion he did not have often) to have the opportunity to take a nice, long shower before bed.

The four of them shared a bathroom, which irritated Kuzco to no end–it was uncomfortable to hear people talking and moving around while you were naked, okay? But there wasn’t anything he could do about it, so he sang Dance Monkey at the top of his lungs to drown out the noise. When the water finally went cold, Kuzco turned off the shower, wrapped one towel around his waist and another on his head, and stepped out, immediately running into Kronk.

Kronk was shirtless, but he still had his pants on, thank the lord. Kuzco turned red, but Kronk seemed unaffected. Kuzco backed away with an awkward cough.

“Uh… heeey,” Kuzco said, tossing a grin at Kronk, who gave a mildly confused smile in return.

“Hey, Kuzco,” Kronk said, and wow, it was honestly impressive Kronk remembered his name. Kuzco had expected him to be asking everyone what their names were for the entirety of their stay.

Kuzco removed himself from the situation by swiftly turning around and making a beeline towards the pile of clothes he had set out for himself before his shower. Despite the fact that Kronk was probably still looking at him, he dropped his towel and put on a fresh pair of boxers. He could practically hear Kronk’s discomfort, but Kuzco figured passive-aggression was probably the best route to scare Kronk away.

When he turned back around, Kronk had vanished in the shower, and Kuzco breathed a sigh of relief. He finished putting on his pajamas and made his way back to his bunk. He briefly considered taking Kronk’s bed, then decided it probably wasn’t worth it. The bottom bunk wasn’t too bad, he realized, once he lied down and allowed his eyes to drift shut. The lights were still on and his cabinmates were talking, but he was tired and no longer cared. He had definitely had enough of them for the day. There was still a whole month to get them to be his personal servants, after all.


	2. kaya king

Kuzco was woken at the ungodly hour of seven in the morning by a blaring alarm. Ben Shapiro’s voice began coming through the speakers in their room.

“Good morning campers, today will be a long day, so–so it’s time to get started.”

Mike Pence’s voice then replaced Shapiro’s. “Don’t forget your morning prayers. Prayer is only the first step in returning to God.”

Kuzco was pretty sure God did  _ not _ approve waking up that early.

He tiredly made his way to the bathroom, washed his face, and quickly changed–no need to have a repeat of last night’s dramatic striptease. The camp shirt didn’t feel too terrible yet, but he doubted it would stay tolerably clean for the next month. He wondered if they had a washing machine at Camp Pence.

Their cabin counselor, Seishiro, arrived just as Kuzco left the bathroom, looking just as depressed and broad-shouldered as the day before. The rest of the Orange Cabin collected themselves despite their obvious exhaustion, and Seishiro led them back to the cafeteria for breakfast. Kuzco was thrilled to find out that there was a wide variety of breakfasts, from french toast to all of the best cereals.

He had Lucky Charms for breakfast. He put the milk in before the cereal, obviously.

“You’re a psychopath,” a girl told him while serving herself Frosted Flakes. She had ridiculous white hair too–what was up with all these people with white hair? Was Kuzco missing out on some sort of wild trend?

“Thanks!” he replied before walking away.

The Blue Cabin seemed slightly more alive than the Orange Cabin, although that wasn’t hard to do. Miguel was already depressed or something, and Harry seemed to spout supportive inspirational quotes at all times except when he was tired. Kronk, of course, was absolutely useless. But Jimmy (Neutron) had no chill, Peter had some sort of superhero complex, Perry was… there, and Norm was being almost as stupid as Kronk.

“Peter, you look a lot like Tom Holland,” Norm said. He sounded stupid. Kuzco hated him. Maybe Kronk was better than Norm. Then again, Kronk was hard to beat.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Peter said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head with a grin.

Personally, Kuzco didn’t see it, but to each his own.

“Ehhh, I don’t see it,” Kronk interjected.

All of a sudden, magically, the resemblance was clear. Crazy how things like that happened.

(Denial. Denial was the first step in dealing with grief, after all.)

(Kuzco was  _ not _ in denial.)

After breakfast, the Orange and Blue Cabins were informed they would spend the first half of the day kayaking and the second half doing arts and crafts. Kuzco wasn’t sure how kayaking was supposed to turn him straight–and were they hoping to kill the drag queen in him? He could still be a straight drag queen couldn’t he?–and arts and crafts were a little gay in his opinion, but whatever. 

When the two cabins made their way down to the lakeshore, Kuzco discovered that, to his dismay, Camp Pence was only in possession of two-person kayaks. Harry and Miguel seemed to be conspiring against him, as well as the entire Blue Cabin, because the only people that weren’t partnered up in milliseconds were Kuzco and Kronk.

He grimaced, but icily ignored Kronk while he strapped on an uncomfortable lifejacket and made his way to one of the kayaks tied to the dock. Kuzco debated for a moment on which seat to take, then decided he would sit in front, just so that Kronk’s massive body wouldn’t be blocking his view.

Kuzco sat down in the kayak and let out a deep breath. His eyes were closed, so he was not prepared for Kronk to get in and rock the boat with his wildly buff body. Kuzco gripped the sides tightly. “What the hell, man?”

“What,” Kronk said. It was supposed to be a question, Kuzco was pretty sure, but Kronk seemed to have a knack for being confused  _ and _ pretending to be innocent.

Kuzco scoffed and grabbed his paddle. “You ready?”

He couldn’t actually  _ see _ Kronk nod in reply, so he took the silence as a yes, unclipped their kayak from the dock, and pushed them away. When they started drifting away from shore, Kuzco suddenly remembered he didn’t know how to kayak.

“Do you know how to kayak?” Kuzco asked, twisting around to look at Kronk, because he actually did care about the answer.

“Uh…  _ yeah _ ,” Kronk said, but it was more of a question than his  _ actual _ question, which did not make Kuzco feel optimistic about their chances.

“Do it,” Kuzco said, gesturing at Kronk’s paddle, which he wasn’t even holding. It was just resting on top of his legs. At least Kuzco was holding his, even if he had no plans to use it.

Kronk nodded and began paddling awkwardly. They started to move, although they weren’t going in any particular direction. Kuzco leaned back in the little seat on the kayak. He was tempted to kick back and relax, but he didn’t trust Kronk’s kayaking skills that much.

The others began making their way over to where Kronk and Kuzco were. Kronk stopped paddling.

Kuzco noticed that, inexplicably, Seishiro was seated in a kayak with Peter, a tired, dead expression on his face.

He was not the only one to notice this, because Norm asked, “Where’s Perry?”

“He slipped and fell, and Doof took him to the nurse, I think. I can’t believe he ditched me! I thought we were going to be trans buddies,” Peter exclaimed sadly.

That explained his insistence on having a girlfriend, at least.

“Doof?” Kuzco echoed with a laugh.

“Doofenshmirtz is our counselor’s name,” Jimmy interjected. “He claims to be from Drusselstein, but that’s not a country.”

Well. Okay. Jimmy didn’t have to make it an  _ ethnicity _ thing. Now Kuzco’s whole vibe was ruined.

“You have two hours,” Seishiro told them seriously before sighing, like he didn’t even believe what he was saying. Kuzco had a feeling that if they never came back, he wouldn’t care.

Kuzco let Kronk do all the work of paddling them away from the group. The lake wasn’t too big, but it was big enough that they were soon barely within shouting distance of their fellow campers. Kronk stopped paddling and they drifted. Kuzco decided it was safe enough to put his feet up on the front of the boat and lounge. He probably should’ve been expecting it when Kronk said something.

“So… Kuzco,” Kronk said. “What’s up?”

“Oh, y’know, hanging out with guys at the vice president’s gay conversion camp,” Kuzco said, surprised by how much effort it took to sound like his usual conversationable self.

He couldn’t see Kronk’s face, but he had a feeling he looked somewhat disturbed. “We’re at a conversion camp?”

“Yeah! Why d'ya think you’re here, big guy?” Kuzco asked. It was half sarcastic and half genuine. He really did want to know why Kronk thought he was there, but at the same time–how? How did Kronk have no idea where he was or why he was there? Kuzco was not the  _ greatest _ at self-awareness, but he usually knew what was going on.

Speaking of self-awareness, Kuzco belatedly realized that they were drifting dangerously close to the side of the lake, which was filled with rocks and tree roots, undoubtedly accompanied by disgusting  _ lake animals _ and  _ brain-eating amoebas _ . Kronk came to this realization at the same time Kuzco did, and he began to panic. Kuzco had been  _ planning _ on taking this in stride and just chilling, but once Kronk began to panic, Kuzco began to panic.

Their panicked attempts to move the kayak to safer waters ended, of course, in the boat tipping over, with Kuzco and Kronk dumped ungraciously in the water. The water wasn’t deep, thankfully, but Kuzco’s head still went underwater, and he immediately surged back up, hoping the amoebas hadn’t gotten into his system in the short amount of time he was inevitably surrounded by them. Kronk came back up at the same time, and they looked at each other while attempting to wipe lake water off their faces.

Kuzco started laughing. He didn’t know why! Kronk just had the most ridiculous expression on his face, and they had  _ tipped over the kayak _ in their panic to get away from the water they ended up falling face-first into anyway. It was crazy, honestly. Kronk was laughing too, and although it was a little hesitant, Kuzco realized he had never  _ laughed _ with someone the way he was laughing in that moment with Kronk.

They calmed down and got back into the kayak. The heat of summer dried their skin and hair and terrible camp shirts as they kayaked.

This time, Kuzco paddled too.

When kayaking was over and they returned to the dock, Kuzco spent the short amount of time it took to get to the cafeteria for lunch re-evaluating his feelings for Kronk. Not that he had  _ feelings for Kronk _ , but, y’know–re-evaluate his opinion and all that good stuff.

Maybe Kuzco didn’t  _ totally _ hate Kronk–but that didn’t mean he liked him or anything! That would be just crazy.

Lunch was a rather uneventful affair. The only thing worth noting was Perry’s return. He appeared suspiciously disheveled for having vanished to the nurse for two hours, but Kuzco forgot about it almost immediately.

After lunch was arts and crafts. Kuzco half-heartedly made a gay pride flag from beads. It was difficult because he could barely find two beads of the same color, let alone enough for the masterpiece he was envisioning. Miguel painted Vines stylized like Bible quotes, which he had the strangest feeling Pence would get a kick out of. Norm drew a terrible picture of himself and some of his friends, whom he lovingly called “the lemmings”. Kronk also tried to make something from beads, and kept taking all the colors Kuzco needed. Doofenshmirtz, the Blue Cabin’s counselor, seemed to be sketching out some kind of weapon of mass destruction. The others didn’t do anything of note.

Seishiro was standing in the corner, arm’s crossed, looking Tall, Dark, and Mysterious. It was inevitable that someone would end up asking him questions. Nobody wanted to ask Doofenshmirtz anything–from what Kuzco could tell, the man was at least mildly insane. The only one that didn’t seem to be at least a little scared of him was Perry. Kuzco had no desire to share his spot as the likable maniacal bad guy, so Perry could have him.

“Oi, Seishirow,” Harry called, “‘ow’d ya end up ‘ere?”

Seishiro looked up from his brooding, a dark expression on his face. “It was this or prison.”

Miguel whistled. “Prison? For what?”

“I harassed a little boy by telling him there were dead bodies under cherry trees.”

“Were there dead bodies?” Peter asked curiously.

“Don’t you know that buried under every cherry tree is a corpse?” Seishiro replied vaguely. “Where do you think they get their color from?”

Okay, maybe Seishiro was Tall, Dark, and Menacing.

Nobody spoke for a while after that.

After arts and crafts was a short break back at their cabins, then a few rounds of capture the flag that lasted entirely too long. Kuzco spent nearly the entire game in jail because nobody felt like saving him, and when anyone tried, they ended up in prison with him. Kronk was surprisingly good at capture the flag, and he managed to free Kuzco once, grabbing him by the wrist and running back to their side together. 

They lost the game.

When capture the flag ended, they returned to their cabins once again for a break before heading towards the cafeteria for dinner. The day passed a lot quicker than Kuzco had expected it to, and he had a feeling it would continue to be like that for the remainder of the month.

Dinner was more eventful than lunch for one reason–rumors. There was a  _ rumor _ that there would be a bonfire that night, out in the woods, without counselor supervision. Not that the counselors did much anyway, but it was the  _ idea _ of rebellion that was so tempting.

“But sneaking out is so barbaric!” Jimmy exclaimed.

Perry gave him a look.

Jimmy just frowned back.

“I’m going,” Kuzco said. “I’m not gonna miss a party at  _ Camp Pence!” _ He regretted not packing any of his favorite drag outfits, but he didn’t want Yzma to know where he hid them. Luckily, Kuzco was already a show-stoppingly handsome guy, and he didn’t  _ need _ to dress in drag to command attention.

But a little makeup wouldn’t hurt.

The remainder of dinner was filled with an odd tension. Personally, Kuzco was excited. He was absolutely ready to vibe and set things on fire.

When dinner was over and they returned to their cabin, Kuzco took another nice long shower. He didn’t spot any amoebas in the suds, so he hoped they had dried up along with the lake water, but amoebas were sneaky little bastards. You never knew where one might be hiding. Afterwards, he dressed in some of his nice clothes– _ not _ the hideous camp shirt–and put a little bit of makeup on. Just a touchup. No one would ever know. At least, no one knew until Kronk wandered into the bathroom, spotted his array of makeup products on the counter, and said–

“Hey, makeup. Cool.”

Kuzco was conflicted between being irritated and charmed.

Christ. He had never felt  _ charmed _ before. Camp Pence was definitely doing  _ something _ to him, but it wasn’t turning him straight.

Instead of going right to sleep like he had the day before, Kuzco chilled out on his bunk for a little while until it was time to go. Sneaking out did feel a little barbaric, like Jimmy had said earlier, but Kuzco was skilled in the art of sneak, and their stealthy escape from the Orange Cabin went off without a hitch.

As far a Kuzco knew, no one had any idea of the specific location this secret campfire was being held, but somehow, they all found their way there.Once at the campfire, which looked like an underground pride parade, Kuzco was pushed into a whirlwind of new faces. He met Tulio, Miguel’s boyfriend, who looked suspiciously like a guy from a stock photo he had seen once.

“So…” Kuzco drawled awkwardly.

“So,” Tulio echoed, a similarly pained expression on his face.

There was Elsa, the girl that had called him a psychopath earlier.

“Still a psychopath?” she asked.

“Still an ice queen?” Kuzco shot back.

She glared at him.

There was James, who had the strangest accent and ridiculous flamboyant blue hair.

“Do you like Pokemon?” James started.

“No.”

“Okay.” James sounded sad, and Kuzco  _ almost _ felt bad, then remembered he didn’t care.

There was Velma. She was a nerd.

“I’m a 70’s paranormal investigator that debunks hoaxes with her loyal team of friends at heart,” Velma told him.

“That’s specific,” Kuzco responded.

Velma shrugged. “I get that a lot.”

There was Shang, who mostly seemed disappointed to be there.

“How’d you end up here?” Kuzco asked.

“The guy I liked turned out to be a girl,” Shang said flatly. Not a fan of small-talk?

There was Dan and Phil, who seemed vaguely familiar, but Kuzco couldn’t quite place it. They had matching cat whiskers.

“‘Ello, I’m Dan.”

“And I’m Phil.”

It took Kuzco a second, then he grinned. “The Diamond Minecart and Dr. Phil? Cool!”

“Euhhh, no.”

It was almost a relief to talk to Norm after all those new people.  _ Almost. _ Kuzco was pretty sure Norm was at the bottom of his list of tolerable people.

“So what’s your story?” Kuzco asked. He felt a bit like a video game character, asking everyone what their deal was.

“I came out,” Norm said dejectedly.

Kuzco wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that. Dealing with other people’s sob stories was not his forte.

“It was all Colonel Sanders,” Norm continued, although his sad, pathetic drawl was hard to listen to. It was like watching a soap opera. “I was just NORM to him… he could never love me more than his  _ secret recipe _ –”

Okay, Kuzco wasn’t sure where Norm found whatever drugs he was on, but he didn’t want it. Colonel Sanders? The KFC guy? Sure, he was a bit of a silver fox, but not Kuzco’s chicken of choice. He preferred McDonalds. He swiftly removed himself from the conversation and found himself seated on a log next to Kronk.

“So. Kronk,” Kuzco said. “We never finished our conversation.”

“What conversation?” Kronk asked. Kuzco was starting to find the thick confusion in his voice less annoying.

“Y’know, the one about why you’re here,” Kuzco said slowly, a smile on his face.

“Oh, yeah.” Kronk paused and thought about it. “Well, my dad wasn’t the nicest. He probably thinks I’m gay because of my job.”

“What do you do?” Kuzco asked, surprised by his own genuine curiosity.

“I cook,” Kronk said. He shook his head. “It was never Papi’s dream for me to cook.” His face had fallen. Kuzco didn’t like seeing that expression on his face.

“Cooking! That’s, uh, cool,” Kuzco said quickly. “Are you any good?”

“People say I am,” Kronk said, brightening up. “I could whip something up for you now.”

“Not today,” Kuzco said, then felt guilty and said, “but soon, maybe? I mean, the whole camp snuck out today, so it probably wouldn’t be hard to do it again.”

“Sure,” Kronk said. He was smiling. Kuzco was smiling, too. He had never been able to make someone smile–well, apart from when he, a barely legal drag queen, performed drag shows in bars.

Eventually, the campfire party died down to near-silence. Kuzco was starting to feel a bit tired. He resisted the urge to lean on Kronk.

“Who set this all up, anyways?” someone asked. Kuzco wasn’t quite sure who.

“Maybe Pence did,” someone else replied. Cue laughter.

Kuzco’s eyes were beginning to drift shut, and he decided that if he was going to give into closing his eyes, he might as well get it over with and lean on Kronk. Kronk was a big, beefy guy, he could handle it.

Kuzco felt oddly content.

“Look at them! Benny, I never thought I’d say it, but I think I’ve peaked. They’re like… my very own Boy Scouts. Were you ever in the Boy Scouts?”

Ben looked up at Pence, doing his best to convey the absolute  _ disgust _ he had for that question. “You have to be a boy to be in the Boy Scouts.”

“Where is that written?” Pence asked. Ben wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

“In the name ‘Boy Scouts.’”

Pence shook his head. Ben frowned.

“In all the years since I left home and forged my own path, I’ve never been so proud,” Pence said with a grin. When he directed that grin upon Ben, Ben was forced to once again question why he did what he did. He was Satan’s right hand man  _ and _ his partner in crime, literally and figuratively.

Ben certainly never expected to be running a “conversion camp” with the nation’s vice president. Vice president was better than president at least–no one paid attention to the vice president. No one knew what the vice president was really up to.

No one but his partner in crime.


	3. god of free snacks

Kuzco woke up the next morning absolutely exhausted. He slugged through the activities for the day, tired and hazy. He tried to keep his exciting persona about him, but it was a little hard to do when running on less than five hours of sleep.

Nothing of note happened that day. Or the next. Or the next. But the next?

Eventful.

First, the camp Olympics were announced. They were to take place the final week of camp, which was, shockingly, only three weeks away. Kuzco hadn’t realized time was passing so fast. The events would be ropes course, gaga ball, relay race, skits (which Kuzco didn’t think should count as an  _ Olympic event _ , but okay), and kickball (Doofenshmirtz looked particularly distraught at this announcement, and he and Perry vanished shortly after–the less Kuzco knew about that, the better).

Second, someone had snuck their phone into camp and saw something terrible on the news. Apparently, that little virus that had been in China had become something of a global pandemic. Kuzco just hoped that it didn’t affect his company–or, more specifically, his  _ money. _ Again, if Kuzco returned home to a shack because Yzma had sent them into bankruptcy, he would  _ not _ be happy.

Third, Kuzco was hungry. That may not sound particularly world-shaking, and, granted, it wasn’t exactly the most interesting thing Kuzco had ever experienced, but what became of him because of this was definitely a big deal.

He had eaten a pathetic excuse for a burger for dinner, and it was  _ so _ pathetic that, as the Orange Cabin settled down and prepared to sleep, he announced loudly, “I’m  _ starving.” _

“I'm not,” Miguel said tiredly.

“Well, I don’ fink they’re givin’ away free snacks,” Harry pointed out.

“We could sneak out,” Kuzco said. “There's gotta be something in the cafeteria we can eat.”

“I could make you something,” Kronk suggested. His voice was quiet, a bit low, maybe even a little shy.

Kuzco was so hungry that he didn’t even care he was about to be alone with Kronk for some indeterminable amount of time. “Yes! Let’s go.” He stood up so fast he accidentally bonked his head on Kronk’s bunk. It hurt, but he couldn’t care less.

“You kids have fun,” Miguel said dryly before rolling over and promptly falling asleep.

Kuzco and Kronk snuck out of the Orange Cabin, and it was, once again, easy-breezy-lemon-squeezy.

Apparently, Mr. Pence didn’t believe in locks, because the door to the cafeteria was not only unlocked, but didn’t have a lock at all. Kuzco couldn’t imagine living life without locks. Besides, what if some unruly delinquents snuck into his cafeteria to steal his food? Clearly Pence was not equipped to deal with that. Kuzco considered giving up his plans of manipulating the whole of Camp Pence into a better place (imagine: Camp Kuzco!) just to watch Pence suffer.

Kuzco led the way to the kafeteria kitchen, but once they arrived, he had no idea what to do. He sat on an empty counter and watched as Kronk got to work.

“Do you like spinach puffs?” Kronk asked.

Kuzco made a face (no, he did not like spinach puffs) but he had a feeling Kronk could pull through, so he said, “Yeeees?”

Thankfully, Kronk did not pick up on his uncertainty and set to work. He hummed something groovy as he cooked.

Kuzco vibed with it.

If they lived in a musical, they might have broken into song, but thankfully, an instrumental didn’t begin to play, so Kuzco didn’t sing. He did drum his fingers to the beat of Kronk’s humming, however. Maybe they lived in a cheap Disney movie that couldn’t afford a full musical number. Kuzco wondered what it would be like to be in a Disney movie. Would he be a good guy? Doubtful, but the media didn’t like portraying gay characters as evil these days.

Ordinarily, Kuzco was the absolute worst at restaurants, but the past almost-week had taught him, if nothing else, to appreciate good food when he could get it. It had also taught him that he  _ liked _ Kronk, somehow, and didn’t want to drive him away by complaining about  _ food. _ Kuzco didn’t care about food that much anymore.

He wondered what their relationship would have been like had they met somewhere else. Maybe Yzma would have hired Kronk as their personal chef? He doubted they would’ve been anything close to what they were now–which Kuzco would tentatively call  _ friends _ . He had never had friends, but he had a feeling his fellow Orange Cabin members were the closest he would ever get.

“Done!” Kronk exclaimed as he pulled a sheet out of the oven. The little spinach puffs looked perfectly cooked. Kuzco wasn’t an expert in the culinary arts, but he knew good food when he saw it.

Maybe Kronk wasn’t so clueless after all.

When Kuzco took a bite, Kronk was watching, concern in his eyes. Did Kronk genuinely care if Kuzco liked his food?

Kronk need not fear, because Kuzco  _ loved it. _

“My compliments to the chef!” Kuzco said brightly before stuffing another in his mouth. “These are great!”

“Thank you,” Kronk said, a flush spreading across his face. Was he  _ blushing? _ Oh my god, Kronk was  _ blushing. _

Kuzco was blushing now too. Damn it. Idiocy was contagious.

(Kuzco didn’t really mind. He kind of liked it.)

“So how’d you learn to cook?” Kuzco asked, voice muffled by the delicious spinach puffs.

“Ah, my mom cooked,” Kronk said with a shrug. Bit of an awkward topic, okay.

Kuzco coughed and switched the subject. “You wanna explore?”

“Explore?” Kronk echoed.

“Yeah, explore! Maybe there’s something cool here.”

Kronk considered for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, alright.”

Once they had eaten all the evidence of their kitchen adventure, Kuzco and Kronk snuck through the cafeteria in silence, their shadows falling on the wall. They discovered that, attached to the cafeteria, was some sort of administrative office. The door was, of course, unlocked.

Kuzco had been expecting boring paperwork, but when he opened the door, he was shocked to be greeted with a room that belonged in a  _ history museum. _

The walls were wood, completely unlike the concrete of the cafeteria. Hanging on the wall was a variety of objects, including, but not limited to: a cowboy hat, decorative ram horns, a jockstrap and assless chaps. Boots with the spurs were set on the ground, pushed up against the wall. A record player had been placed on a table in the center of the room. A record was already on it, waiting to be listened to.

Kuzco didn’t know anything about record players, being a filthy Zoomer, but he had seen movies. He exchanged looks with Kronk before moving the needle (?). Grainy guitar began to play. Kuzco had a bad feeling about this.

“ _ Eighteen naked cowboys in the showers at Ram Ranch _ –”

“Oh my god,” Kuzco said out loud.

“ _ Big hard _ –”

Kronk stood motionless. He must have been in shock.

They listened to the whole thing.

“Ram Ranch rocks,” Kuzco said, torn between laughter and the desire for death once it was over and the sound turned to white noise.

Kronk looked at him. Kuzco looked back.

“What just happened?” Kronk asked.

“Don’t ask me,” Kuzco said. “I have no clue.”

There was an old photo framed on the wall. It was of a group of cowboys. Kuzco looked at it. He looked again. Squinted. “Hey Kronk, can you come here?”

Kronk approached and they looked at the picture together. Kronk’s side was pressed against Kuzco’s. Kuzco felt a little too out of it to care.

“That looks like Mike Pence, doesn’t it?” Kuzco pointed at one of the cowboys. He wasn’t sure why he bothered to ask  _ Kronk _ of all people, but for once, Kronk was surprisingly helpful.

“It sure does,” Kronk said.

Kuzco was suddenly  _ way _ too tired to deal with this. “I’m tired. Let’s go back to the cabin.”

“Okay,” Kronk said agreeably.

They trudged back to the cabin. Harry and Miguel were asleep. Kuzco vowed to tell them in the morning before promptly passing out in his bed.


	4. fucking hot cowboys

“You  _ wot _ , mate?”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Kuzco said. “It is crazy! But it happened.”

“We should investigate tonight,” Miguel suggested excitedly. “It would be helpful if someone had a phone.”

“I don’t,” Kronk said. Shocker.

The Blue Cabin had thus far been silent during their breakfast conversation, but at the sound of rules being broken, Jimmy sprung into action.

“I don’t. I follow the  _ rules,” _ Jimmy announced with a grin. If he had sunglasses, the image would have been perfect.

“I don’t,” Norm added. “But Perry does.”

Perry first shot Norm a vicious glare–understandable, who  _ tattled _ at  _ gay conversion summer camp? _ –then gave the rest of them a less vicious but still steady glare. Clearly they were not going to borrow Perry’s secret phone to research the mystery of Ram Ranch.

“I have a phone!” Peter offered. “You guys can use it if you want. I wanna know what’s up with this whole cowboy thing, too.”

“How about we meet in the cafeteria tonight,” Kuzco suggested. Everyone seemed to find that agreeable, so the plan was set.

The rest of the day dragged by, but after dinner, Kuzco was filled with nervous energy. He had never been so invested in someone else’s life before, had never seen the point. But this was exciting! Plus, it felt like an opportunity to be with Kronk. Sure, they  _ lived _ together, and now their whole cabin and their partner cabin would be with them, but Kronk was different after-hours. It was  _ fun. _ Kuzco liked fun.

They finally escaped from the Orange Cabin to the cafeteria. The Blue Cabin trailed in shortly afterwards–although Jimmy seemed reluctant and Perry looked annoyed. They stood around awkwardly for a moment.

“So where’s this room?” Norm asked.

Kuzco and Kronk led the way. When they reached the room, everyone poked around individually. Having already seen the room, Kuzco and Kronk left as soon as Harry started to play the record again.

They came back when it was over. Everyone else looked similarly torn between pain, shock, and laughter.

“Ram Ranch, huh?” Peter whisked his phone out of his pocket and started typing aggressively. “Apparently it was a famous underground gay hangout in the ‘50s.”

“The  _ 50’s?” _ Miguel echoed. “How was Pence there then?”

“I have no idea,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Pence isn’t mentioned here at all, but it does say the creators were a Polish Jew and a German ex-Nazi. That’s kinda cool.”

“Where was it?” Kuzco asked.

“Uh…” Peter frowned. “Here.”

“Camp Pence is built on a  _ gay hangout  _ named  _ Ram Ranch.” _ Miguel frowned. “That’s… wild.”

“Wild indeed,” Jimmy said. What a freaking  _ nerd. _

“So what now?” Kuzco asked.

His fellow campers shrugged at him in unison.

“Pence is gay?” Kronk said all of a sudden. Everyone turned to stare at him instead.

“Is that the conclusion we’re drawing?” Jimmy asked, rolling his eyes. “ _ Clearly _ the evidence states–”

“Shut it, Jimmy,” Norm said. Kuzco couldn’t agree more.

“Bu how was ‘e there?” Harry asked.

“He’s immortal,” Kuzco suggested with a laugh, then snorted when he thought of something better. “Pence is  _ Satan.” _

They all had a good laugh.

“Some of the, uh, the campers went into your Ram Ranch room,” Ben said.

“Did they have a good laugh?” Pence asked, ever the optimist.

“Well– _ yes… _ ”

“Good! I didn’t use up all that power to convince the country to let me build this place for  _ nothing.” _

Ben sighed.


	5. king boo

It took a couple days for something else to happen, but something else  _ definitely _ happened.

“Kuzco,” Peter said casually when they were alone. “Y’know, I read that there’s a waterfall around here.”

Kuzco glanced at him, a little confused. “Okay…?”

“So you and Kronk should go,” Peter suggested.

“What–me–me and  _ Kronk?” _ Kuzco stuttered. “Pfft–ha– _ no, _ why would  _ we _ go?”

Peter stared at him. “You guys aren’t subtle. Like,  _ at all.” _

Well. Okay. Thanks, Peter Parker.

(Oh yeah, Peter, Norm, and Perry all had  _ wild _ names. Peter Parker was a little weird, and Norm’s name was Norm North, but Perry’s full name was apparently  _ Perry Platypus. _ How did someone end up with the last name  _ Platypus, _ anyways? And Kuzco thought  _ Kronk’s _ last name was weird.)

Kuzco thought it over the rest of the day, and by evening, he decided his desire to go to a romantic little camp waterfall with Kronk outweighed his desire to  _ not. _ If Kuzco wanted something, he got it, baby.

That night, he approached Kronk awkwardly while Harry and Miguel were out of earshot.

“So… Kronk. I heard there’s this cool waterfall, we should go.”

Kronk smiled. “Sure, Kuzco!”

Score.

It was quiet outside apart from the singing of the cicadas. Kuzco had never liked cicadas, but they sounded nice here, at night with Kronk. Peter had, thankfully, provided directions to this secret waterfall, so it was relatively easy to find. When the sound of rushing water joined the cicadas, Kuzco knew they were close.

The waterfall was, in all honesty, beautiful. It wasn’t big, but size didn’t matter. At the bottom of the waterfall was a small pond. The water was cool and clear–Kuzco could feel the spray of the falls.

Returning to his thoughts about what it would be like to be in a Disney movie, Kuzco was suddenly making comparisons to the Lion King.

He wondered if he, too, would feel the love tonight.

Kuzco and Kronk sat at the edge of the pond and dangled their feet in the water. They didn’t talk for a little while. Usually, Kuzco was almost uncontrollably compelled to ramble about himself, but something about Kronk kept him from doing so.

It was nice to not talk about himself sometimes.

At some point, their shoulders bumped and they began to lean on each other. Kuzco’s hand inched closer to Kronk’s, but something held him back.

“Kronk–” he started, but he didn’t have the opportunity to finish.

Two misty figures appeared in front of them. They were people, clearly.  _ Dead _ people. Kuzco was not a superstitious guy, but his first instinct, as would anyone’s, was to grab Kronk’s hand, shout “GHOST!”, stand, and bolt, dragging Kronk along with him.

They would certainly have another story to tell at breakfast.

Being a ghost sucked.

“Adam?”

He didn’t bother looking up, too busy trying to light his cigarette. “Yeah?”

“Was it worth it?”

Adam snorted. “What, scaring those kids?  _ Yeah _ , did you see the expression on that guy’s face?”

“No,” Seth said. “I mean–running away with me here. Starting Ram Ranch.  _ Us.” _

Adam finally looked up, abandoning the cigarette. “Of course you were worth it, Seth. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t stick around.”

Seth snorted. “You still talk the way you did when we hung out under the bridge back in Poland.”

“So do you,” Adam countered. He frowned. “Why’re you thinking about  _ us, _ anyway?”

“They reminded me of us,” Seth said. “The kids we scared.”

“Ah.” Adam thought about that for a moment. “Which one’s me? Am I the twink or the buff guy?”

Seth laughed. Adam laughed. Eventually, they lapsed into silence.

“Man, being dead blows,” Seth said.

“Seth?”

“Yeah?”

“Please stop trying to sound cool.”

“I’m cool!”

Adam smiled and looked away. “Sure you are.”

“You sawr  _ wot _ last night?!” Harry exclaimed.

“A ghost,” Kuzco muttered. Hindsight was 20/20 (just like the year! Haha!) and he felt nothing but embarrassment towards his reaction last night. Hopefully Kronk didn’t think less of him.

“Two ghosts,” Kronk added helpfully. “They were pretty spooky.”

_ God,  _ Kuzco did not want to screw this up.


	6. the car that goes zoom

Camp Pence had been ongoing for nearly two weeks when word got out that someone had left a car with the keys in the cupholder, and campers were signing up for joyrides and trips to the nearby town–all unofficial, of course. Kuzco heard about it after Miguel and his boyfriend Tulio did it. He thought about it, then decided to ask Kronk to go with him to town. Kronk agreed, of course, and soon enough, they found themselves in a 2019 Subaru Outback.

(Someone must have let it spill to the counselors, because Kuzco had caught Seishiro pacing and muttering “Subaru” under his breath earlier in the day. Kuzco wondered what Subaru had ever done to him.)

Kuzco never learned how to drive, so he sat the passenger’s seat and let Kronk take the wheel. Kronk was a surprisingly good driver–the ride to town was calm and smooth. Kuzco spent half of it angsting over their relationship and if they had one at all, and the other half hoping desperately that it wasn’t some shabby little Midwest Bible-clutching town.

When they arrived, Kuzco was glad to find out that, despite his ongoing melodrama over his and Kronk’s relationship, they would have a good time at the decent-sized town they had found themselves in. Weirdly, some people were wearing masks. Personally, Kuzco didn’t get it, but fashion was fashion. He considered adding a mask to his next performance.

Before his credit cards had been frozen, Kuzco had taken a small loan of a million dollars from his bank account, so they were able to get ice cream cones from their local frozen custard place. Kuzco didn’t understand people who  _ went with the flow _ and did what everyone else was doing. The sheeple needed to wake up.

Then again, Kuzco  _ was _ making a lot of money off the sheeple. Maybe they could stay asleep.

Kuzco was not a sheep, llama, or any animal other than human. He vibed alone (and/or with Kronk. Vibing with Kronk was pretty fun).

They held hands–over the table, of course, Kuzco didn’t want Kronk thinking he was trying to hold something else–while eating their ice cream. Kuzco smiled. Kronk smiled. They were having a good time.

They were walking down a dark street back to the car when Kuzco was struck with the urge to ask Kronk about their relationship. He wanted clarity, okay? A guy was entitled to a transparency policy.

Before Kuzco could follow through on his intentions, they were interrupted by a homeless guy shouting at them.

“Hey! You! You guys! Buy my song!”

“Your song?” Kronk asked before Kuzco could drag him away. Kuzco barely refrained from facepalming like it was 2015.  _ Everyone _ knew not to interact with the weird homeless guys shouting at them. Everyone except Kronk, it seemed.

“Yeah! It’s called Yummy.” The guy peered up at them, eyes narrowed. “It’s me, Justin Bieber. Can we get it to number one on the charts?”

Kuzco did not know any Justin Biebers, nor did he want to know this one, but Kronk didn’t seem to share the same opinion.

“Can you sing it?” Kronk asked.

_ Christ. _

“Yeah, no problem!” The guy beamed at them. He needed to brush his teeth. “Yeeaeh youououuu got thaat yuuuuuummmy yuum, thaat yUummY YuM, that yUAUUAUUAMMYY YUUUmmmmuuumy, yeeaih YOU gOOOT THAATAT–”

“Okay, no,” Kuzco said, grabbing Kronk by the arm and dragging him away.

“Why’d you do that?” Kronk asked him.

“Do you  _ really _ want to listen to his song?” Kuzco asked dryly. Kronk thought about it, then shook his head. “Exactly. C’mon, we should be getting back soon.”

They got in the car and began driving back. The silence between them allowed Kuzco’s thoughts to surface again. Finally, he could stand it no longer.

“Kronk, what are we?”

Kronk didn’t answer for a minute. Kuzco looked over at him. Kronk looked out at the open road.

Eventually Kronk responded, “Whatever you want us to be, baby.”

Well. Alright.

“But Kronk–I’m rich and you’re poor! We could never be together!”

“Kuzco, your family doesn’t matter. Forget them!”

“But what about this summer camp?”

“Summer camp can be our secret.”

Kuzco nodded, then said, “Pull over.”

“Why?”

“I want to kiss you,” he said, shooting Kronk a crooked grin.

Kronk grinned back.

Kronk pulled over and they did just that.

“Fun night?” Miguel asked the next morning.

“Shut up,” Kuzco muttered as he dragged himself to the bathroom.

He could hear Miguel’s snickers even from the other side of the door.


	7. the devil went down to missoura

Not long after their adventure, Kuzco and Kronk both got sick. When the camp nurse was informed, Kuzco and Kronk were promptly quarantined in their own cabin. They got to be alone for the next two weeks. Apparently they had something called the  _ coronavirus. _ What a ridiculous name. Who named a virus after a beer?

Unsurprisingly, being alone together for two weeks helped them become closer.

“Oh yeah, it–it–it’s aLL COMING TOGETHER!”

“...that was stupid.”

“ :( “

Meanwhile, the rest of the camp dealt with the upcoming camp Olympics. Certain individuals became  _ the ones to beat. _ For example, in the gaga ball event, a young woman named Judy went unchallenged. Her skill with the ball was unparalleled, despite never having approached balls in her life. This granted her the nickname “Judge” Judy.

“Lord” Tulio was a rising star in the world of kickball as an incredible kicker and outfielder, but Tony “the Tiger”, a furry that seemed to identify as an egirl, was an unbeatable pitcher. Before pitching, Tony always asked how the kicker wanted it to be pitched and exclaimed “Grrrreat!” once they replied. No matter how the kicker responded, Tony always threw it bumpy and fast. No bunts allowed in the Tony zone.

Kickball was a sore subject for a certain individual at Camp Pence. Camp counselor Doofenshmirtz had an unresolved past with the sport, but the only person he confided in was camper Perry Platypus. Their relationship was incredibly private, despite the fact that Perry and Doof vanished every day, prompting the inevitable “Where’s Perry?” Some said that Perry got goosebumps every time the question was uttered.

Another camp-wide bonfire was held in the woods. They told ghost stories in the woods–some a retelling of the strange past of the campgrounds, some even more horrifying. The camp favorite was The Friz’s retelling of “It Came From TikTok”.

In the absence of Kuzco and Kronk, a few other campers rose to infamy. Adam Flayman, for example, who had been sent to Camp Pence because he was outed while trying to keep his friend from dating a bee. It was a rather hilarious story, though one for another time. A guy who chose only to be referred to as “The Once-ler” was fun to be around, although experiencing his split personalities, which were, oddly enough, in love with each other, was rather disturbing. Someone who seemed to suffer from someone similar, Danny Gooden/Drew Gonzalez, claimed to be two different people, but the entire camp saw right through it.

Alongside preparations for the Olympics, whispers of what Kronk and Kuzco had discovered swept the camp. Speculation about the history of Ram Ranch, the identity of the cowboy that looked like Pence, the ghosts at the waterfall, and the nature of Pence and Shapiro’s relationship filled the cafeteria during breaks. It was never addressed by Pence, Shapiro, or anyone else in a position of power in Camp Pence. Even the counselors seemed confused about what to believe.

Despite being isolated, Kuzco and Kronk kept up conversation about their own suspicions.

“Hey, Kronk? If ghosts are real, then Satan could be real. Pence could really be Satan. Maybe he set this whole thing up to laugh at us. Maybe Ben Shapiro is trans!” His declaration was cut off by a violent bout of coughing.

“I think we’ve been inside too long.”

Pence and Shapiro occasionally discussed the camper’s antics, but Pence reiterated, time and time again, that he did not care, so Shapiro did not care, either. He tried to, at least. It was difficult not to be insulted at some of the whispers and concerned at others. Some seemed to think he had made a deal with the devil. If Ben Shapiro had sold his soul to Mike Pence, he would have asked to be taller, so clearly he still retained his soul. Not that there was much of it.

Kuzco and Kronk recovered from the coronavirus in just two short weeks. They were freed from quarantine and allowed to return to the Orange Cabin. Kuzco had enjoyed the time he had with Kronk, but being alone with him for two weeks had been more than a little suffocating. Kuzco enjoyed his freedom. Why else would he live in America?

_ One month _ had seemed like such a long time at the beginning, but now that the month was almost up, Kuzco found himself worried about the future. Would he ever see any of the people he had begun to consider  _ friends _ again? What would Yzma do when she found out Camp Pence didn’t fix him? What about Kronk?

What about Kronk. That was the whole problem, wasn’t it? Kuzco had gone and gotten himself  _ attached _ and now he was screwed.

That night, despite having returned to the Orange Cabin, Kuzco and Kronk slept in the same bed–Kuzco’s bed, of course, since the top bunk would probably collapse with the both of them. They had done that throughout quarantine. Neither Harry nor Miguel said a word about it. Kuzco appreciated that.

He leaned into Kronk, then wondered what it would be like to do that for the last time.

Kuzco found it hard to sleep that night.


	8. olympic gold

The next day, the camp Olympics began. The event for the day was a ropes course. The camp Olympics were divided by cabin. Each cabin had to work together in order to complete the events. The ropes course was judged on time and elegance.

Kronk was excellent at sports but obviously lacked elegance. Kuzco was the opposite. The Orange Cabin struggled and didn’t place in the top three. The Yellow Cabin, which was practically carried by Elsa, won gold. She flipped him off when she walked off the podium.

Kuzco was a little hurt and a little flattered.

The event lasted the entire afternoon. During his evening shower, Kuzco thought about talking to Kronk and figuring out how they would make their relationship work, but ultimately decided not to. It was a wild decision–when was the last time he denied himself something? Not anytime recently, that was for sure.

Kuzco had changed.

The Olympics began on a Monday. The following day, Tuesday, was gaga ball. The Orange Cabin had missed out on practice due to Kuzco and Kronk mysteriously contracting coronavirus, so they were absolutely crushed by Judge Judy.

She was cool.

Wednesday was the relay race. Despite usually being a decent runner, Kuzco found himself gasping for breath ten seconds into his leg of the race. He doubled over and coughed. Maybe he needed to get his lungs replaced.

Due to Kuzco’s failure, the Orange Cabin didn’t place yet again.

Kuzco was beginning to feel a little demoralized by all this losing.

Thursday was the skit. Kuzco had laughed at the idea of including a skit as an Olympic sport, but he revoked his statement. Kuzco was a  _ fantastic _ performer.

They choreographed a scene in which Kronk struggled to come up with a fake girlfriend to impress his father. Kuzco felt a little guilty at the real emotion on Kronk’s face, but the judges loved it. Ben Shapiro shed a tear.

Kuzco, of course, made an appearance in drag, and he felt good.

That night, he and Kronk watched the sunset together on the Orange Cabin roof.

Only two days left until Camp Pence was over.

Friday was the big day. It was the last day of the camp Olympics, as well as the second-to-last day of camp. Camp Pence buzzed with energy the whole morning. The kickball game was set to start in the afternoon.

After lunch, they began to set up for the game. The Orange and Blue Cabins were up to kick first, so they hung out in the dugout.

“Ah man, it’s almost over,” Miguel said with a grin. “And to think I thought this would be torture.”

“Torture?” Peter laughed. “What, like they’d put us in straitjackets or something?”

“Well, they wouldn’t put us in gay jackets,” Kuzco drawled.

“Hey,” Kronk said. “Where’s Perry?”

Perry felt chills shoot down his spine and he sighed. Someone must have said the magic words.

He stealthily opened the secret door in the tree he was hiding behind and slid down the tunnel into his temporary base of operations. It was a little sad compared to his normal base, but Camp Pence had been a spur-of-the-moment mission. Personally, he felt as though they could’ve fixed it up in the past month, but secret agents can’t be choosers.

He sat down in his chair and the screen in front of him flickered on. His boss, Chris Hanson, appeared on-screen.

“Agent P.,” Chris Hansen began, “how’s the investigation?”

Well. Okay. Here’s the thing.

The investigation was an absolute disaster.

Perry’s  _ mission _ was supposed to be looking into Camp Pence and making sure no illegal activity was happening there, but it all got turned upside down by two things. The first was Ram Ranch. Perry had  _ no idea _ what the rich lore of the campgrounds was, but he had a feeling that it all tied back to whatever was happening at Camp Pence–which was essentially  _ nothing. _ None of the usual tactics of conversion camps were being used. The only thing going on at Camp Pence was a bunch of LGBT kids at a summer camp together. Perry didn’t understand it.

The other problem was Doofenshmirtz.

Doofenshmirtz had been a problem for a long time. He was Perry’s nemesis–Doofenshmirtz plotted, Perry thwarted him, rinse and repeat. Perry just hadn’t expected him to show up as not only a  _ camp counselor _ , but  _ his _ camp counselor.

Perry also hadn’t expected their  _ relationship. _

It was complicated.

Doofenshmirtz still didn’t know Perry Platypus the secret agent was the same as Perry Platypus his summer camp fling. It was a little sad that Doofenshmirtz couldn’t recognize him without the fedora, but you can’t always win.

Point is, Perry’s mission at Camp Pence was a disaster, and there was  _ no way _ he could tell his boss. He would probably be fired on the spot if Chris Hansen found out about the nature of his and Doofenshmirtz’s newfound  _ relationship. _

Perry just faked a smile and sent him a vague report he had written just before their meeting. He watched as Chris Hansen read the report on-screen.

“No obvious problems, no real conversion therapy… this is great news, Perry.” Chris Hansen shook his head. “If you’re right, it’s too bad we wasted all these resources on nothing, but at least we know.”

At Perry’s nod, Chris Hansen sent him off to continue spying. Camp was almost over, so Perry would soon be free of the assignment. He probably should’ve been glad, but he was mostly concerned about Doofenshmirtz. There was a  _ reason _ Perry had never dated, after all. Attachments were difficult.

After leaving his base of operations–he took the stairs this time instead of the tube–Perry found himself walking towards the Blue Cabin. It would be empty, since his fellow cabin members would be preparing for the kickball game, but he had a feeling Doofenshmirtz would be there.

Doofenshmirtz was not a fan of kickball. Perry would likely be subject to more lamenting about his tragic backstory, but he didn’t really mind. Over the past few weeks, he and Doofenshmirtz had vanished off into the woods at random hours of the day. Doofenshmirtz would complain and rant and Perry would help with stress relief. It clearly didn’t work since the rest of Camp Pence still thought Doofenshmirtz was insane, but Perry did what he could.

They had spent time together ever since the second day where Perry pretended to get hurt to get Doofenshmirtz alone. His intention had been to confront the man on his presence in Camp Pence, but he had instead tumbled headfirst into the greatest mistake of his career.

Perry pushed open the door of the Blue Cabin and spotted Doofenshmirtz sitting on Perry’s bunk. At the sound of the door creaking open, Doofenshmirtz looked up at him.

“Oh, hi Perry the Platypus,” Doofenshmirtz said dejectedly. He held up a hand. “I know, I know, it’s not really your name. It’s just  _ habit _ , I guess.”

Perry shook his head.

“What is it?” Doofenshmirtz asked, perking up at the thought that Perry might have some juicy secrets of his own backstory to share.

Perry had a feeling he was about to make a massive mistake.

He reached into his infinitely large pocket and pulled out his fedora. He put it on and stared, watching the gears turn in Doofenshmirtz’s head. He could pinpoint the exact second it hit him.

“The  _ other _ Perry the Platypus?!” Doofenshmirtz exclaimed incredulously. “I  _ knew _ it couldn’t have been a coincidence. I mean, how many Perry Platypuses could there be?” Then another realization seemed to hit him. “Well, this is awkward.”

Perry couldn’t agree more.

Doofenshmirtz sighed and stood. “I guess we should keep to the routine then.” When Perry just blinked at him, he continued, taking on his usual evil persona. “You’ve arrived just in time, Perry the Platypus! It’s my newest invention, the  _ Camp Pence-inator!” _

Alright. Perry knew that was a lie.

“You’re right, Perry the Platypus.” Doofenshmirtz’s shoulders hunched even more and he shook his head. “I lie to myself. I didn’t make this.”

It was lame anyway. Doof could definitely do better.

“You’re right!” Doofenshmirtz said, brightening up. “This  _ is _ lame. No way could I invent something as lame as this.”

It was a little weird that Doofenshmirtz could practically read his mind.

“Yeah, that is weird.” Doofenshmirtz shook it off. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were Perry Platypus! I mean, this whole thing would have been so much  _ easier _ if you did.”

Perry made a face. Obviously he couldn’t have done that earlier, it would’ve blown his cover, lost him his job, and probably gotten him stuck in a trap. He was lucky Doofenshmirtz hadn’t actually built an -inator this time, or else there would’ve been a trap. His traps were never actually a threat, but it was the principle of the thing.

Doofenshmirtz frowned. “Do I tell you my evil villain backstory again?” Despite Perry violently shaking his head, he continued, “Well, it all started when I was a small child. My mother’s love was inexplicably tied to kickball…”

Perry was tempted to attack him anyway. He retracted his previous statement about not minding. Whatever feelings he felt for Doofenshmirtz, they were not strong enough to make him listen to the backstory for the millionth time. His glare must have been pretty powerful, because Doofenshmirtz rolled his eyes at him.

“Jeez, if you don’t want to listen you don’t have to be  _ rude _ about it.” Doofenshmirtz crossed his arms. “This is weird.” His words came out as more of a mumble than anything else. Perry felt guilty.

_ Perry _ felt surprisingly okay with having his true identity revealed, but clearly Doofenshmirtz didn’t feel the same way. He stepped up to Doofenshmirtz and put a supportive hand on his shoulder. He tried to smile, and it felt a lot more natural than the one he had given Chris Hansen earlier.

“Thanks Perry the Platypus,” Doofenshmirtz said, then pointed an accusing finger at him. “But don’t think you’re getting out of this! It’s all your fault, y’know.”

It really wasn’t  _ that _ big of a deal. Perry smiled sheepishly anyway for Doof’s benefit.

They sat down on Perry’s bunk. Neither spoke for a moment. Doofenshmirtz was not a fan of silence, so he broke it. Perry didn’t speak at all. He was, unfortunately, mute.

“I’ve been thinking, Perry the Platypus,” Doofenshmirtz began. “I’ve been doing  _ evil _ all this time, but maybe I should try being  _ good _ for a little while.”

Really? Perry gave Doofenshmirtz a doubtful look.

“Okay, okay. Maybe I need to start off as chaotic neutral.” He hesitated. “It’s because of you. Well, the  _ other _ you. Or…” Doofenshmirtz frowned. “Was it real?”

Perry didn’t need clarification to know what that question meant. He had asked himself that question too. At the start, it might have been fake, but… He nodded.

“Oh, good!” Doofenshmirtz said. “One-sided relationships are so messy.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “So what’s up with this  _ Ram Ranch _ thing? Seems like a  _ you _ problem.”

Oh god.

Perry might have to take a break from being good and try out lawful neutral for a while.

At least Doofenshmirtz would be right there with him.

The bases were loaded. Tulio was on third. Harry was on second. Kuzco was on first. Kronk was up to kick.

Tony the Tiger asked how Kronk wanted it pitched.

“Slow and smooth.”

“Grrrreat!”

The ball came flying towards Kronk, fast and bumpy. He wasn’t phased. He took a step forward. He readied his kicking foot. When the ball was in  _ just _ the right spot, he kicked. The ball soared, disturbing a flock of birds. It sailed through a raincloud and came out covered in water droplets. The ball kept going.

Kronk hit it out of the park!

Tulio ran. Harry ran. Kuzco ran. Kronk ran.

They reached home one by one. Miguel gave Tulio a high-five. Harry met up with his mysterious secret boyfriend. Kuzco waited for Kronk to reach home.

One of the outfielders finally found the ball. They ran, desperately trying to stop the absolute slaughter. They threw it, a last-ditch attempt to peg Kronk and save at least one point.

Kronk saw it coming. He dove as he approached the plate. The ball flew past his head, narrowly missing him.

Kuzco cheered. The crowd cheered.

They won!

The Orange Cabin did  _ not _ win the camp Olympics. Despite his failure, Kuzco watched the awards ceremony with a grin on his face, hand-in-hand with Kronk.

Maybe Kuzco didn’t need to be the best.

Maybe being happy was enough.

The Yellow Cabin won, of course. Elsa was titled Camp Queen.

Screw Elsa.

(No hetero).


	9. adios novio

The last day of Camp Pence was a Saturday. It hardly felt like a day–campers began leaving in the morning. Some were gone before breakfast.

As he was walking to breakfast, Kuzco spotted Jimmy getting into a car. Miguel and Tulio were picked up by Tulio’s girlfriend Chel–he couldn’t imagine how awkward  _ that _ car ride was. Perry didn’t show up to breakfast, but he was pretty sure he spotted him and Doof jetpacking off into the sunrise.

Breakfast was a rather depressing affair. Kuzco was glad the world bent to suit his moods once again. It was strange when everyone was happy and he wasn’t.

Kuzco wondered what it would be like to go back home.

After breakfast, he no longer had to wonder. Yzma stood leaning on the limo, wearing a ridiculous cat outfit. Kuzco considered stealing it for his next drag show.

He and Kronk had been holding hands, but Kuzco quickly dropped it and began to social distance.

“Heeey, Yzma,” Kuzco said, trying his best to replicate that Classic Kuzco sound. “How’s it going?”

“Get in,” Yzma replied, rolling her eyes.

Kuzco glanced at Kronk, then back at Yzma. He gave Kronk a weak smile.

Kronk looked sad.

He continued to look sad the further away he got.

Kuzco stared out the window sadly.

Even once Camp Pence was out of sight, it remained in Kuzco’s mind. He rested his cheek against the palm of his hand and wondered how the hell he would live. He was a changed man. Kuzco was pretty sure he wasn’t a  _ good  _ person, but he wanted to try.

The end.

Sike! Haha. Gottem.

“Well, Benny, I’d say that was a success!”

For once, Ben was in total agreement. “It sure was.”

“I just hope they don’t tie the increase in acceptance to us,” Pence said with a sigh, shaking his head. “If Trump doesn’t die in office, my whole plan is ruined.”

“At least you’ll never die,” Ben pointed out.

“But you will!” Pence exclaimed. “We’re all in this together, Benny.”

Ben flushed a little and turned away to hide it. He attempted to remind himself that he was very loyal to his lovely doctor wife, then remembered she died four years ago when Satan broke into his house looking for Raisin Bran. Ben had been so invested in bonding with Satan over the best cereal brand that he had forgotten about the dead body on the floor.

Whoops.

So he was a bachelor! Completely available. No adultery necessary.

Ben opened his mouth to say something, but Pence cut him off, gaze fixed on his phone.

“Sorry Benny, but duty calls and some souls in Hell are asking for the manager. Stick it to the man and all that. See ya later!”

And with that, Mike Pence disappeared in a puff of demonic smoke. Ben coughed.

Damn that man*.

(*actual Satan)

Kuzco returned home to his home, which–thank  _ god, _ he really thought he would be returning to a shack. He was glad to know his paranoia about Yzma was irrational. Sometimes he laughed at himself in the mirror while thinking about what a ridiculous pattern of thought that had been. Imagine! Yzma, trying to get  _ rid _ of him. Who would want to get rid of  _ Kuzco? _

At the thought of it, he laughed out loud. Someone gave him an odd look.

Belatedly, Kuzco remembered he was in a Starbucks.

Months had passed since Camp Pence. Kuzco, loathe as he was to admit, was  _ sad _ about its end. Obviously his mansion was far superior to the disgusting little Orange Cabin, and he didn’t even want to  _ think _ about the Ram Ranch room (he barely resisted gagging in distaste at that statement), but… there was something about the rustic charm of it that he missed.

Of course, the style of Camp Pence was not really what he missed. Above all, Kuzco missed  _ Kronk. _ He was an idiot, and he was so stupid, and the sound of his  _ voice _ used to make Kuzco confused–but he was  _ Kuzco’s _ idiot!

Kuzco would have given anything just to listen to that weird homeless guy sing Yummy with Kronk.

It was well into fall now. Kuzco finished off his pumpkin spice latte and slammed it down on the table, hoping he looked like a cool frat guy taking a shot. He threw it in the trash–he would’ve thrown it in the ocean for the turtles, but he didn’t live near an ocean–and made his way out of Starbucks. It was within walking distance of his house, so he put on his AirPod 2’s and listened to a nice mix of Shakira, Lady Gaga, and Marina and the Diamonds while on his walk home. It was a little cold out, so he readjusted his scarf to cover more.

Kuzco never used to like walking, but it reminded him of Camp Pence and of Kronk. It was a little pathetic.

He wondered, for the umpteenth time, why he didn’t just ask for Kronk’s goddamn phone number.

When he arrived home, the butler greeted him at the door.

“The new chef has arrived, sir,” the butler informed him with a bow while taking his coat.

Yzma replaced chefs once every few years. Apparently she got bored of them. Kuzco first wondered what the difference was, then remembered the stark differences between Camp Pence Cafe and Kronk’s cooking. He wondered idly if the secret ingredient was  _ love, _ then immediately felt disgusted with himself.

Who needed love? Not Kuzco. Love was for losers. You know who had good, healthy relationships? Not Elon Musk. No one with a good relationship named their child like a car model.

Despite just having consumed 20 oz of caffeine, Kuzco decided he was hungry and wanted to find out if this new chef was good. They probably were, considering Yzma’s ridiculously high standards, but Kuzco had nothing better to do. These days, his multi-billion dollar empire practically ran itself.

He meandered into the kitchen and froze as a familiar smell wafted towards him from the oven. He couldn’t place it for a moment. Then he spotted the chef.

Kronk stood, spinach puff trays in both hands. He looked the same as always–ridiculously buff, confused, and cheerful. He had an apron and chef’s hat on. He didn’t see Kuzco at first, preoccupied with setting down the hot trays on cooling racks. He then turned and spotted Kuzco in the doorway. His face  _ lit up. _ Kuzco didn’t know faces could do that.

“Kuzco!” Kronk exclaimed.

“Kronk!” Kuzco exclaimed back, then tried to tone it down a bit. “So… come here often?” That wasn’t  _ exactly  _ toned down, but it was playing a little coy. Might even throw in one of those coy smiles.

Kronk rubbed the back of his head. He hadn’t taken off the oven mitt yet. Kuzco hoped that was sanitary. “I do now.”

“You’re the new chef,” Kuzco said. He  _ knew, _ but he just wanted to make sure, okay? Maybe Kronk… broke in or something. You never knew.

“Yup.” Kronk smiled shyly. “This is your house?”

“Yep. Kuzco Kuzconian of the Kuzconian Empire. That’s me.” Jesus, who named him that? His  _ mom? _ Kuzco put changing his name on his mental to-do list.

There was an awkward silence between them. That tended to happen when you didn’t see someone for months.

“Want a spinach puff?” Kronk offered.

“ _ Yes,” _ Kuzco agreed. He reached for one and popped it into his mouth. It tasted like heaven, just like last time. “These are great!” Between bites, he asked, “Do you live around here?”

“I’ve lived here my whole life,” Kronk said.

“ _ WHAT?” _ Kuzco nearly spat out his spinach puff. “You’ve lived here the  _ whole time?  _ I can’t believe this!”

“I didn’t know you lived here either,” Kronk said. “It’s too bad. We could’ve met up.”

“Met up– _ Kronk! _ We are  _ so _ going to make up for lost time.”

For once, Kronk didn’t look confused about that statement.

“You’re cool with me working here?”

“Yeah,” Kuzco said, waving it off. “What Yzma doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Kronk smiled. Kuzco grinned.

(Yzma found out after about a week, then immediately retired and became a principal at an elementary school on the east coast, leaving Kuzco the sole owner of the company. She told him later that if Mike Pence couldn’t fix him, no one could.)

(If only she knew.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> camp pence 2 2021??

**Author's Note:**

> The Emperor's New Groove  
> Kronk's New Groove  
> idk those tiktoks where they talk about going to pence's conversion camp  
> What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction  
> The Road to El Dorado  
> Tokyo Babylon (the manga not the anime fuck the anime)  
> Kalvin Garrah - Ben Shapiro IS a Transgender Man https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBMCunRoXxo  
> Ben Shapiro Defines What "Boy" in Boy Scouts Means https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QLn3i0qrtwg  
> Despicable Me  
> Jimmy Neutron S2EP12  
> Phineas and Ferb ("Thaddeus and Thor")  
> Spiderman (? i have no idea where trans peter parker came from don't @ me)  
> Norm of the North  
> I Love You, Colonel Sanders!  
> Frozen  
> Pokemon and/or https://garyland.neocities.org/james_is_gay.html  
> Scooby Doo  
> Mulan  
> dan and phil's coming out videos that I'm too lazy to link but yall know  
> Ram Ranch by Grant MacDonald https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MADvxFXWvwE  
> On The Bridge by Todd Strasser https://1.cdn.edl.io/SOmXmc1oPUGLFYjy3AnMHBiYUtb383WLoOEeEsQy2hBPlKRM.pdf but it's a Nazi AU  
> Yummy by Justin Bieber https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8EJ3zbKTWQ8  
> The Bee Movie  
> Judge Judy  
> The Magic Schoolbus  
> imagine Tony the Tiger from the cereal box but someone made an egirl edit of him  
> The Lorax but also https://www.google.com/search?q=onecest&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwik4tKf-__pAhUytjEKHQQuDToQ_AUoAXoECA0QAw  
> Danny Gonzalez  
> Drew Gooden  
> To Catch a Predator
> 
> if you've seen all that I can guarantee you'll understand every reference in this masterpiece of a fanfiction


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